


When We Meet Again

by Miriza



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Rings, Cock Tease, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Touching, Prostate Milking, Riding Crop, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1303198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miriza/pseuds/Miriza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock meets an old acquaintance under the most unexpected circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When We Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> This story is betad by Cryptic Nymph from ff. Thank you to her! I have added some tiny unbetad parts to the text later, so there may be typos. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> This story has demanded to be written some time. I had to get it out from my system. 
> 
> Some readers may think, that Irene Adler here is a bit darkish. For me she is quite in-character. Maybe not verbatim, but the spirit is there.

His head has finally cleared enough that he can make some sense of what has happened to him. After a brief check of his situation, he notices that is on all fours. He tries to stand up from this humiliating position, but he can’t even arch his back much. It is because his waist is belted by a strong leather strip to a low bench, imitating a breeding stand. His knees are belted apart to the floor, letting his limp cock hang freely between his thighs. His wrists are also secured on the stand. His clothes, well, he cannot find them on him. The position exposes his bare buttocks and testicles. 

He tries to collect his thoughts. _He had left from Bart´s early this morning after spending there a couple of the most interesting hours making experiments to find the murderer. On the street a man stopped with a London A-Z book, asking for an address. The man was from Argentina, muscular, but not very tall. Sherlock tried to pass the man, but he was persistent, telling, that he was lost and didn´t know, where to go. To get rid of him Sherlock had stopped to show the man, where they were before he realized, that other man emerged behind him, grabbing from his arm. Then he felt a stink in his arm and it was too late. Soon all went black._

“What…?” Swearing is the most vulgar and weak way to express oneself. He doesn´t swear. But now he is close. He is still a bit confused from the sedative he has been given, but more that that, he is angry about how he let them surprise him and how he is now bound down. Shameful and humiliating, but still, he is not very afraid. His mind is listing the possible perpetrators. Whoever is behind this should have a good reason. Someone he knows, perhaps? 

He doesn´t need to wait long before he hears light steps. He will soon know who.

Then….

He sees her.

The woman emerges, into his sight; her simple dress shines in its cold whiteness. 

“You?” His surprise is genuine. He didn´t expect her, of all the people. She should be far away, in South-America, as far as he knows. She has returned to London. And he hasn´t had a word from Mycroft. So much for his support, then.

“Hello, Mr Holmes. It has been awhile. How’s your life going? Still solving crimes, doing your big brother´s dirty work, as far as I can see. Life offers nothing new for you. Except now.”

She crouches near him, raises his chin with her elegantly manicured fingers, with the tips of her long sharp nails. Her wide eyes meet his catlike ones. 

“Are you comfortable here? I hope so, because you’ll stay here a while.” The woman´s voice sounds like honey, her eyes glitter like distant stars. Irene´s hand taps his back, making him stay still. He is exposed for whatever use Irene Adler has planned for him.

“Whatever you think you are going to, stop it,” he almost whispers. His gaze is locked on hers.

“I just want to return a favor, junior. There is so much I can do for you,” she assures him, circling him as though admiring a piece of art work. She lets her index finger slide over his skin; even this light touch makes him shiver. “I knew it. You are so sensitive behind your cold façade.” 

She begins lubricating her right hand fingers. Soon, she steps behind his prone figure, and then Sherlock feels her hand on him, a finger on his hole. The long slick finger slips past his sphincter, inside Sherlock´s body, probing him. It finds its mark, and Sherlock whimpers involuntarily when he feels the finger teasing his most intimate part. He tries to withdraw, but his straps prevent all his attempts.

“Let´s see how long you endure, junior. Even more experienced men than you have finally given up and sobbed like little babies. How long would it take before you beg me for mercy, dear Mr. Holmes? Or should I call you the Virgin? Oh, you feel so… unused.”

Sherlock shivers, from the nickname and from her massaging touch. He is tempted to let out a sigh, but he controls himself.

“That is promising. Your gland feels healthy. I’m preparing you before we start.”

“We?” Sherlock lets out a dry laugh. As if he’s asked this. As if he has anything to do with this. “Are you going to violate me? I wouldn´t believe it of you.”

“Of course no, dear! What do you think of me? I am just helping you a little with your pressure. An intimate massage. That’s all.”

Sherlock looks straight forward, careful not to reveal any reaction when Irene shows him a vibrator, which is obviously meant for him.

“This will be a long and thorough session. It will be both enjoyable and educational. I strongly recommend that you relax.”

Then, without further pleasantries, Irene Adler pushes the lubricated vibrator inside him. It isn´t big enough to feel uncomfortable, his body swallows it without difficulty. It fits exactly inside him and contacts his prostate, as it is meant to. He can feel it in his body even when it isn´t on, how it presses him, fills him, promises unwanted sensations, the loss of control. But Irene´s preparations are not done yet. She takes his soft cock in her hand, rolls a cock ring around its base, and then helps the shaft inside a rubber tube. It is a bit big now for his soft cock, but she knows that it will fit just fine soon. The thin hose is attached to a plastic bag, which he supposes is meant to collect what he manages to produce. Irene smiles as she evaluates her work, checking that all is in order. Considering Sherlock´s passivity in this area of life, a considerable amount of liquid is expected. It will take a long time before he is emptied.

Finally, Irene twists Sherlock´s nipples with her skilled fingers, fingering them playfully, making Sherlock bite his lip to prevent the wail that lurks behind his sealed lips.

“So… Sensitive, are you? Jim was right. You need a firm hand to make you understand your true place, cow.”

The preparations are finished.

Then Irene clicks the remote control on. The vibrator starts to pulse against the detective´s prostate. It’s like an extra heart, in a strange place. It feels odd. It nudges the gland in a steady rhythm, sending pulses all over his bound body. He tries to wriggle his back to make it go away, or even just to change its position. No use. It is buried deep inside his body, making him squirm, unable to get rid of it. 

_I will endure this,_ he assures himself stoically, when he feels the effects of the vibrator all over in his body. The Woman turns the power up, intensifying the stimuli. The strengthened stimulus makes his body tingle. As his shock subsides, he realizes that his cock has started to respond, like it has been waiting for this for some time. It is half-hard already. He tries to will it to settle down, but it doesn´t obey him. This is unexpected: he can’t get one tiny part of his body under his control. On the contrary, he feels the hardness becoming more intense. Soon his swollen cock fills the tube that it is stuffed in. 

“Ah.” 

He arches his lower back up, then down, then he pushes hard up again. There is just a tiny space for him to maneuver. His navel touches the cushion of the low bench that he is leashed to. The restraints press on his skin. He yanks against them again and suddenly, but they don´t give way. He wills himself to be still. There is no point in tugging and pulling, because Irene knows how to tie a person up properly. 

It is hot here, so hot. 

The cock ring prevents him from ejaculating; instead, he notices, the tip of his cock bursts thick semen into the tube in regular intervals, and through the hose it starts to steadily fill the plastic bag. He tries hard not to think about how ridiculous he must look without clothing, being tied to the floor on all fours, his bare ass up with the device inside, his hard cock against his belly. His hands are trembling, his skin is sweating… he must be a sight. 

This is not my fault, he assures himself, as if that will make this more tolerable. I have no reason to feel guilty. It hardly helps, as the growing pressure on his crotch makes him shift his ass. As if it could make this all go away. 

_“This is_ a violation,” he chokes out in a thick voice.

“Shut up, cow.” Irene comments. “Or I’ll have to gag you.”

* * *

It must have been going on for at least an hour now. Sherlock´s back has been moving up and down for some time. It makes the constant irritation more tolerable, or so he imagines. Anyway, he cannot make it stop. He needs to move somehow, although his possibilities are limited in that respect. The vibrator´s intensity and rhythm changes, keeping him alert, and it prevents his body from adjusting to it. 

Irene has moved the plastic bag so he can see how the regular pulses of thick liquid fill it. He squeezes his eyelids closed so that he cannot see that disturbing sight. But her hand grabs his hair, tugs his head backward violently.

“Irene!” He yelps.

“For heaven´s sake! What do you think you’re doing? Keep your eyes open! I want you to watch what progress you’re making! I don´t want to force you, but I will if you don´t obey me.” Sherlock keeps his eyes stubbornly closed. 

“You can always try,” Sherlock remarks dryly.

“Open them.” Irene orders. She tugs his hair hard; he grimaces. He won´t do it. Then he feels pain in his eyelids. The bitch slaps his eyes with her riding crop. He cries out, more from surprise than from pain.

“Open them, useless cow, if you don´t want more.” Irene hits his cheek this time. He opens his eyes, but Irene stands so he cannot see her, only the wall and the bag half-filled by his semen. She drops his head. 

“Better.”

How much longer? She cannot keep him forever. 

He tries to push his thighs together, although he knows that the restraints around his knees stop him from doing so. But the irrational necessity makes him do so. His need to make the pressure in his crotch ease fills him completely. It burns his chest, melts his brain away; all coherent thoughts have flown away and his limbs are weakened like jelly. 

“So much already! You could surprise John, put some of your fresh milk into his tea. He would be pleased.”

The mention of John makes Sherlock ache. He could not ever know about this, or he would burn from shame. No one could ever know. Sherlock´s toes curl, his fingers scrape the floor. He feels a cool touch on his burning shaft, on the thin bare area of his skin between the tube and his balls. The fingers tease him, but he needs more… so much more. Irene´s fingers feel incredible on his heated skin.

“Irene…” He starts with difficulty.

“What?” 

He doesn´t continue. No! He once said he wouldn’t beg this woman, and so it will be.

Now Irene squeezes his balls, which hang bare and unrestrained. She plays with them. Sherlock cannot restrict himself, but he lets out odd noises. His stoic self-control is lost. He pushes his flesh against Irene´s hand, looking for comfort and relief. When Irene notices, she smiles victoriously, but draws her hand away, tapping him on his bum. She has this proud man on his knees in front of her. He would eat from her hand, if she wanted. This is absolutely her day.

“Eager, aren’t you?”

“Make this stop. Just stop this,” The detective´s voice sounds strained.

“Not until you are empty, my dear cow. You are not there yet.”

The milk… no, the semen, he corrects himself. The bag is almost full. Irene slushes the bag, and weighs it in her hand.

“Sherlock?” He hears Irene´s voice. That woman, that… bitch. A strange way to say thank you after rescuing someone. “I can’t hear you… did you say something?”

“Nothing...nothing at all."

"That is strange. You are usually so talkative.!

He squirms in his restraints, he can´t help it. He is about to explode. His hips are bucking forwards slightly now, like the rocking movement could ease his distress. His crotch is burning from with need, the ring keeping him painfully hard. 

Irene ruffles his curls playfully, and he pushes his head against her hand. They are always like that in the end, like eager puppies wanting to play. The detective with the funny hat isn´t an exception to the rule. Although, he’s not wearing that hat now, or anything else either. Maybe she’ll make him wear that infamous hat next time they meet? How delicious he would look then! She’ll have to take some pictures! Mycroft would appreciate this video. He would be thrilled when he saw how his little brother was doing with sex. Not an unknown area for him anymore. Except strictly speaking, this is not about sex: this is about helping with stress. She is teaching junior to relax a bit. Why is he still so tense? Poor man.

She wonders what Mycroft would give her to prevent her from publishing this nice video? How will he save Sherlock from a porn-star’s reputation? You know, once the thought is planted in people´s minds, it stays and grows. Sherlock would get new kinds of clients, who would want more physical, compromising services from him than before… a consulting slut. Irene chuckles softly. It would be so fun. Oh, his posh brother would agree to anything to prevent it from happening. What a shame it would be for the British Government. Yes, this nice video is very useful. Of course, she has taken care that she is not visible on the video. She is not the one who needs that kind of publicity, when she already has her own website. 

Sherlock wriggles his back desperately, obviously wishing that he could shake the vibrator out of him. Just wishful thinking- it’s pushed deep into his body, impossible to get out that way- but nothing prevents him from trying. He has to do something, for his own self-respect; besides, he looks so lovely when he twists his body like that. So… delicious. She takes Sherlock´s hard nipple between her two fingers, stretching it forcefully. It feels hard, like a ball. Oh, it looks so tasty! Irene imagines how it would feel and taste in her mouth, what kind of noises Sherlock would emit if her white teeth bit it gently. She could not do it, not whilst he is in this position, but the thought makes her giggle to herself a little. She repeats the action with his other nipple, and he lets out an anguished sigh.

In front of Sherlock´s eyes, his semen fills the plastic bag, slowly but inevitably. It must have been ages since his last shag, Irene concludes, if the amount of semen is any indicator. He’ll need a lot to drink when this is over. 

But finally, she has to face the fact: he is empty. Their lovely, mutual exercise has started to end.

Irene fingers his balls again, which now resemble emptied sacks. She palms them. They look and feel empty.

All good things must come to an end.

It’s time to stop the vibrator. She would continue, but there’s no practical reason to do that. It would be pure cruelty then, and she is not that kind of woman. 

“You are emptied, cow.” She drags his testicles, even twists them, until she gets a wail out of the detective.

“More! I want to hear you! You haven´t begged me, you stubborn animal!”

“No, stop! You’re hurting me!”

“That is the point, stupid cow!” Irene´s nails dig into his tortured flesh. “Beg! I can continue this however long I please.”

“D-don´t Irene.”

“Beg!”

Finally, Sherlock gives up. He wants this to stop. He wants to be gone

“Pl-please, Irene. Stop! Please!”

“Good.”

Irene lets him go, and pulls the vibration out from him. What a relief it is to Sherlock to get it away. 

Irene´s hand soothes his softening organ, as she removes the tube and the cock ring. Sherlock sighs, when Irene´s hand touches his aching organ. 

“We are almost there. One more thing, before I let you go. I´ll make a refreshing drink for you to enjoy.”

She removes the plastic bag full of Sherlock´s semen from the stand.

“That is to say, you made it. That would be closer to the truth.”

She puts a rubber nipple on the bottle, and then gives Sherlock a bright smile, crouching on the detective´s level. 

“One more thing, dear. Then we are complete.” Sherlock wishes that Irene would stop using “we”, when she means “I”. The rubber nipple touches his lips, nudging them. But Sherlock refuses to take the bottle, and keeps his lips tightly together. 

“This is for your own good. It will help you gather your strength before you leave. Now drink it, or I’ll have to be more persuasive.” 

Sherlock´s eyes flare. There’s no way that Irene would make him take this unpleasant rubber nipple into his mouth. 

“I see,” Irene says, with frustration in her voice. “We have to do it the hard way.” She goes behind Sherlock again. He stiffens when he feels Irene´s fingers on his tender flesh, and then comes the pain. Irene´s sharp nails are again biting into his balls, torturing his testicles; she yanks them and he wrenches harder than ever in his restraints.

“Stop it! Stop it, Irene, stop!”

“As soon as you promise to drink like a good boy, and don´t try any tricks with me. Do you think that you can do that, Sherlock? Do you?” To make her words more convincing, Irene stretches his balls with one hand and scrapes the flesh with her other hand´s finger nails. Her sharp nails leave marks in his reddened flesh. 

“I think that you’ll start to bleed soon, Mr. Holmes, if I continue.”

“No, stop this, please, stop! I´ll do what you want. Just stop,” Sherlock pleads. He’s had enough of everything. There is no stubbornness left in him. Irene lets him go. She takes the bag again and comes to Sherlock.

“That´s splendid to hear, Mr. Holmes,” she says, mockingly formal. “Now open your mouth and suck.” Sherlock takes the nipple into his mouth obediently. This could not be worse than what Irene did to him before. The rubber feels weird in his mouth when he starts to suck it with some difficulty. The content is thick, but the nipple has a modified hole on the tip of it.

“So here we go… good… what a skilled boy you are! Next time we could work more with that. Napkins, maybe? A dummy?” Sherlock shivers at the thought of a ‘next time’, and the image which Irene´s words create in his brain.

His cum tastes oddly bitter in his mouth. He has found a calming rhythm for his task. He wants to complete it, but it takes time. There is lot of it- he couldn’t have ever imagined that he was able to produce so much…. He blushes, and a new burst of semen fills his mouth. There is no way to do it faster. He is too aware of Irene, who watches his every facial movement, her own face so near he can feel her warm breath on his face.

Finally, he is done. His arms shake from the effort of carrying his weight. His whole body feels wrung out, drained. But he stares at Irene like he has nothing to hide anymore from this shameless woman. Irene doesn´t blink. Is there some respect in her expression? It’s hard to tell.

“Fine, Sherlock. You’ve done so well. I’m very proud of you. Now I can help you out.”

Sherlock stays still, as Irene opens his restraints one by one. He gets to his feet, a bit unsurely, but still. He stands straight now, naked and sweaty, and Irene looks small and fragile next to him, but Sherlock knows better than to underestimate this woman. 

“You looks gorgeous, junior. This has done you good,” Irene says, amused. “Take a shower and dress yourself. You can’t go out like that. You’ll find a dressing room on the right near the door. I’ll be waiting for you.” Sherlock turns and leaves without a word. He hopes that none of Irene´s staff witness his departure.

* * *

Sherlock is leaving now. He has his familiar Belstaff. It feels better than ever, almost comforting. Of course, Irene has saved it for him. She understands how important a part of him the coat is. 

“I assume that you have recorded it all.” It isn´t a real question. He knows the answer. 

“Naturally. By the way, if you become difficult, I can always send a nice video to delight your grumpy brother. I’m sure that it would make his day! So remember to behave. You are welcome to play with me anytime. Just knock the door. And don´t worry- technically you are still a virgin. Or the Virgin. Moriarty´s files are up to date.”

Sherlock turns to step out from the door of Irene´s new city house. His pacing is a bit pained, but he manages to hide it. He does not need to walk long, before he hails a taxi and tells the driver an address. 

“221B Baker Street.”

Sitting on the taxi´s seat makes him wince. He is sore, even the thin fabric of his pants causes discomfort, when it touches his…well. He misses his dressing gown, and sofa. 

It is time to return to John. He is more pleased than ever that John´s observation skills are not the best. He doesn´t want any sardonic or, what would be worse, concerned comments from him, not now. He just wants him to be there, as usually.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a fiction, so it may be, that all physical reactions there are not realistic. And hitting someone to his/her eyes or faces don´t be recommendable. It can cause demages: belongs to the category: Don´t try this at home! :)


End file.
